


Watching/Waiting

by swearymary73



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swearymary73/pseuds/swearymary73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of angsty goodness for you. Sam's part first - Dean's to follow if anyone would like to read it :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam - Watching

You clean your guns  
And I watch

You sharpen your knives  
And I watch

Your skin still damp from a shower, you dress  
And from behind my bangs — I watch

You flirt  
And though it hurts, breaks my heart even — I watch

You sleep  
And this is the time, at night, when I am free to watch, devour - by sight — to take in as much of you as I want, as much as I need, freely — without reprimand or consequence.

My watching through the day has to be limited — if you were to know how I felt about you - for you - you'd be repulsed. This thing that I feel - that I want — is far from normal. But for us, what is normal? This is the question that brings me light on the darkest days — that maybe we could be possible, the two of us. But the light doesn't burn strong for long and I have to appease myself with watching, glimpsing.

The glimpses I snatch and the few 'innocent' touches I make — the brushing of my fingers against yours as I hand you something, the hand on your shoulder asking if you're okay, the brushing of shoulders as we pass - are the fuel to the ever growing fire that consumes me, bringing me temporary relief when I shower — jacking off, you're name falling almost silently from my lips as I come.

You're laid on your side now, facing me — your mouth slackened slightly in sleep, your face free from expression — peaceful, serene — not the tired, haunted look that consumes you in the light of day. 

I love you more, if that's at all possible, when you're like this.

You've taken to sleeping in just your shorts because of the heat — a thin cotton sheet pulled up to your hips. One hand rests palm up beside your face, the other hangs loosely over your stomach — your arm resting on your side.

From where I lay in my own bed — barely a few feet away, my gaze traces every line, every curve of you. 

Not for the first time - nor the last — I wonder how your skin would taste as I lick every inch, how your pulse would feel beneath my tongue as I lick at your neck or wrist. I wonder at how, your hard body stretched out beneath me, your skin warm and slick with sweat against mine - would feel, and I realise my breathing has become heavy. This is what you do to me and you don't even know it. 

A cars passing headlights sweep across the room, bathing you momentarily in their light and a low moan escapes you as you shift from your side onto your back, your forearm across your eyes - and I palm my hard cock through my shorts as the sheet slips lower, revealing more of you to me. 

My eyes sear a path from the thin band of your shorts - visible now the sheet has shifted - along your flat, toned stomach and chest, to fall on your face, partly obscured by your arm. Looking at your lips I unconsciously lick my own and I have an overwhelming urge to touch them. Just one touch, but I blink that thought away — until it comes back with white-hot need as soon as I lay eyes on those soft lips again.

Before I can over analyse, I'm out of my bed and kneeling beside yours. My breathing is erratic and sounds loud to my ears as I struggle to control my need. This is the farthest I've ever ventured — to kneel beside you and be about to touch you is a whole new level for me.

Reaching out my hand, slowly — not surprised at the slight tremor I see there — my finger tips barely graze your lips as you sigh and your head falls to face me. Snatching my hand away and squeezing my eyes shut, my head fills with the sound of my own racing heart as I wait for your inevitable question of, 'What the hell are you doing?”.

But after a few seconds, when it doesn't come, I open my eyes to see you're still asleep. Releasing the pent up breath I wasn't even aware I'd been holding, I squeeze my eyes shut — my mind screaming at me to stop what I'm about to do, my body screaming at me to continue. My body wins out and opening my eyes, I slowly lean forward and feeling your soft, warm breath — I softly sweep my lips across your own and fuck if that doesn't get me harder. 

Backing away, heart still racing, I quietly go back to my own bed, and slipping under the sheet I rest on my back. Gazing at the ceiling, I'm still on a high from that small taste of your lips and I trace the tip of my tongue across my own, catching just a hint of you.

But soon, I know, a hint of you will not be enough to sustain me, to quell the ache I feel each time I look at you.

I need you.

And eventually — like tonight's new level — my body will stop listening to my screaming mind — and I will have you.


	2. Dean - Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's angsty POV - hope it doesn't dissapoint :)

I clean my guns  
And feel you watching

I sharpen my knives  
And feel you watching

My skin still damp from a shower, I dress  
And through your bangs — I feel you watching

I flirt  
And still you watch

I pretend to sleep  
And laying on my side, facing you — I know you're watching me.

This is as much a nightly routine for me, as it is to you.

You watch. I wait.

I anticipate this part of the days end as much as I know you do. It sounds crazy, girly even, but it's as though I can feel your eyes on me — each look a small caress. 

You know I'm no where near capable as you at expressing my feelings — I don't do this kind of thing well.

You think I don't notice the glimpses, the 'accidental' touches — fingers brushing against mine, the pressure of your hand on my shoulder as you ask if I'm okay, the brush of our shoulders as we pass. I notice — and feel — them all. I feel them deep down, butterflies fluttering in my stomach, at each touch, no matter how slight. You honestly don't realise the effect you have on me.

Sometimes you're not as quiet as you think you are — the noise of the shower can't always hide the sound of you calling out my name as you come. The one and only time I've heard it — my cock was instantly, achingly hard. I'd just heard the confirmation of what I'd suspected — that you felt the same, wanted the same, as I.

But what I feel for you is beyond normal Sammy. But I ask myself what's normal in our fucked up lives. Shouldn't we have something that makes our lives bearable, something that gives us some slice of happiness.

But now as I lay facing you, I wait — and wonder. Will tonight be the night you decide to leave your bed and come to mine. To lay with me and make us whole.

The decision, in my mind, in the end — has to be yours.

I listen to you breathe and notice a subtle change — you're breathing heavier and I wonder what it is you're thinking. Are you thinking what it'd be like to fuck me Sammy? Or am I fucking you??

A cars passing headlights sweep across the room and I take this as an opportunity to roll onto my back, tangling my legs in the sheet, pulling it down further. Resting my forearm across my eyes, I open them.

To me, the air feels electric — as if you're on the cusp of some change within you. I'm struggling to breathe at a normal rate as I feel your eyes raking up my exposed torso, and then I hear you move.

My heart's racing as I hear you kneel beside the bed. I don't move — I let the sound of your breathing wrap around me and I feel the softest touch against my lips as your fingertips graze them.

I almost lose it as that small touch goes straight to my cock and a sigh escapes me. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall to face you, my forearm falling to the pillow behind me.

For what feels like forever, the silence is deafening until I hear you breathe. Then a slight shift in the air as you move closer quickens my already racing pulse and then you're there. For only a fleeting second — your lips brush mine and my heart feels as though it will burst.

I want to act on it Sammy, believe me I do. I want to reach out and pull you to me, devour your mouth with my own.

But then you're gone as I hear you return to your own bed. And my heart slowly breaks.

You want this — want us. As do I.

I want to kiss you Sammy — suck you, bite you, fuck you and more. I want you to look at me as you breathe my name when you come.

But I have to wait — I can't act on this Sammy.

As much as I want this — need this — it has to begin with you. Your actions speak a thousand words to me, but I have to hear it — hear it said from your sweet mouth. 

That you want this — want us.

But after tonight — in the wake of your lips on mine — I feel as though that beginning is drawing nearer.


	3. Sam - Taste of You

Dawn's early light seeps through the rooms thin curtains and I'm mesmerised by the dust motes that float and linger in the air.

I'm tired, sleep having come only in dribs and drabs, the waking hours in-between filled only with the constant, slow-motion replay of my kissing you — the taste of you still imprinted on my lips — lips that are practically raw from the constant tracing of the tip of my tongue, tasting you over and over.

The waking hours have also been filled with my mind working overtime. I've taken that first step and acted upon my needs, my wants — and I crave more, much more. 

This time I acted upon them in a cowardly way, waiting for you to fall asleep.

But the next time, and there will be a next time — you will most definitely be awake.


	4. Dean - Ghost of You

Dawn's early light seeps through the room's thin curtains and shadows slowly retreat as light begins to filter into the room.

The silence of the room wraps itself around me as I lay awake, tired but unable to sleep. Sleep has been out of my reach ever since you brushed your lips against mine. I haven't been able to think of anything else since in the hours that have passed.

Every time I've closed my eyes, I can feel that soft brush of your lips and my mind and body responds. My skin breaks out in goose bumps, my cock stirs to life and my mind runs through so many possible scenarios of us together that it only serves to torture me.

But I'm helpless to it's draw — laying here on my side, watching you as you lay in your own bed, facing away from me — as I recall the ghost of your lips against mine and know now, as I had only dared to hope only a few hours ago, that our beginning is indeed drawing near.


	5. Sam - Affirmation

It's been two days since I kissed you, well — brushed my lips against yours. That doesn't constitute as a kiss — a proper kiss would have you writhing beneath me, moaning into my mouth, arching your body up into mine. And that will happen. Believe me. It will.

I know you've felt it too — this tension in the air — ever since that night. I can see it in the way you look at me that little bit longer, let your hand linger on my shoulder longer than necessary. The almost gentle way you stitched up my shoulder yesterday — your fingers trailing and hesitant across my skin.

That touch — though only slight - was affirmation to me. Affirmation that you want this, as do I.

That's why, tonight, we have a queen room and not the usual double.

“Only room left was a queen”, I'd told you as I'd gotten back in the car, gripping the oversized plastic key-fob like a talisman.

I'd decided that tonight would be the night — the night that defines or breaks our future. No more waiting.

Telling you the room number, I'd hoped you wouldn't notice the mainly empty parking bays. But knowing your eye for detail — you can't have failed to notice. 

But tonight has to be right — and two single beds do not feature in my plan.


	6. Dean - A Moments Lapse

Two days. Two days have passed and I swear I can still feel that faint brush of your lips - pressing like a weight against my mine.

The tension between us since that night has been palpable - I know you must feel it too. Feel it in the way I look at you a little bit longer than I need to, let my hand linger on your shoulder longer than necessary. Even more so when I stitched your shoulder yesterday — I barely held it together — in one momentary lapse, I'd trailed my fingers across your skin and hesitated, realising what I was doing.

That touch — though a lapse on my part — I believe now, was my minds subtle way of telling you what I want. You.

Subtle though it was, you've got us a queen room instead of a double.

“Only room left was a queen”, you'd told me as you'd gotten back in the car.

I'd noticed the way you gripped the key-fob tightly in your hand and telling me the room number, I couldn't help but notice the mainly empty parking bays as I'd pulled up to our room, and it's then I'd known you'd asked specifically for a queen.

“Will this night be our beginning Sam”, I'd silently asked myself, “My heart is in your hands”.


	7. Sam - Inflection

You'd dumped your bag on the side of the bed nearest the door as soon as we stepped into the room, beginning to lay the salt lines before you'd even removed your jacket — telling me I could grab the first shower. Tired of having the inevitable dregs of warm water that are always left after your marathon shower sessions — still, I was surprised you'd offered.

“What?”, you questioned, walking back to the bed and shrugging off your jacket. 

For a split second it seemed to me that you had inexplicably become shy, you seeming to look anywhere but at me — your jacket, your bag — anything but me.

“You always have first shower”, I practically rasped, my throat seemingly having gone dry at the appearance of a 'shy' Dean.

“Well shit, Sammy”, you said, still not looking at me as you'd crossed your hands at the hem of your t-shirt and began pulling it up over your head, “you want it or not?”.

And damn if those words and the sight of you stretching as you stripped — all tightly defined muscle — didn't sound like an invitation to what I was already planning.

My delayed response of, “Oh, I want it”, holding your gaze as you finally look at me, knowing you must have heard the inflection in my voice. I can only look at you for a second or two before I look away, the ramifications of those four words drying on my tongue as I know it's now or never.

Too late it hits me — do I have the balls to do this? My heart pounds and my pulse races and then you offer me salvation with your words as you move toward me.

“Forget the shower. Tell me what you really want Sammy”. 

Closing my eyes and exhaling the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding, I turn to face you and five words spoken lay out all my hearts desires at your feet.

“You. I want you Dean”.

I search your face for your reaction — noticing your eyes are teary — and await the inevitable fist to the face, my insides coiled as tight as a knot. But it doesn't come. Instead, your softly spoken response wraps around and crushes that expectation as you raise your hand and cup the side of my face, sweeping the pad of your thumb slowly across my cheek bone.

“I'm yours Sammy, always have been”.

Your words hit me harder than the expected physical blow and though stunned at your confession — knowing you feel the same — it is your tender touch at my cheek that renders me speechless. I've felt your touch a million times — the stitching of wounds, training — but not one of them as tender as this, holding so much intent.

My gaze holds yours as leaning into your touch, I cover your hand with my own and move your hand to my lips — pressing a kiss to your palm as I tell you that I want to do that to every last inch of you.

My words open a floodgate as - pupils blown - you wrap both hands in my hair and pull me to you, kissing me breathless, repeating my name as a litany when you pull back for air.

Your lips are red and swollen and I can't tear my eyes from them as you say my name — all I feel is the urgency to taste you again and pulling you flush against me, my hands on your hips, I kiss you, almost hungrily, devouring — that little taste spurring me on. I grind myself against you and the moan you release into my mouth gets me harder as, cupping your ass, I lift you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around me. The only sound I can hear is our mixed heavy nasal breathing as neither one of us wants to stop this now it's started.

Walking the few steps to the bed, I lower you slowly till you're on your back - as holding myself up with one arm, the realisation of finally having this, us — turns my kisses tender and slow, brushing my lips around your own as we both catch our breath. 

Your breathless question of “What's wrong?”, when I pull back, makes me smile down at you, worry etched in your eyes. I don't have to be a mind reader to know you think I've changed my mind.

“Absolutely nothing”, I reassure you, pulling my hand from underneath you — slowly, enjoying the feel of your smooth, bare skin — to trace my fingers across your lips. Damn if your lips aren't going to be a major distraction for me from now on, “ Nothing, apart from I'm gonna make you come so hard”, and I'm nipping at your bottom lip before I realise what I'm doing — damn your lips!

“Sammy that ain't wrong”, you tell me as you wrap your hands in my hair and pull my face a fraction of an inch from yours - and damn if that hair pulling isn't going to turn into a serious kink, very fast, “that's a whole lotta right”, and then you're kissing me.

Finally, my screaming mind has been quelled and I know that this is a new beginning between us — we will only grow stronger, bound together for as long as we exist, for as long as we fight all that's out there.

For as long as we both have air in our lungs and blood in our veins — we will be.


	8. Dean - Permission

As soon as we were in the room, I'd dumped my bag on the bed — my attention divided between you and the implication of the double bed.

I busied myself laying the salt lines, I have to keep busy — doing something other than pinning you to the wall — which is how this is gonna go down if I don't distract my over-active mind.

“Why don't you take first shower”, I offer, keeping my back to you as I finish laying the lines. I can use the time you take to compose myself.

You don't answer and turning, I find you watching me. 

“What?”, I ask, not able to meet your gaze — I know if I look at you my resolve will dissipate and I will be all over you like a rash.

“You always have first shower”, you state, practically rasping your words and damn if that raspy tone of voice doesn't stir at my cock and incline me to tease. Just a little.

“Well shit, Sammy”, and taking the hem of my t-shirt in my hands, I begin to take it off, “you want it or not?”.

I almost stop mid-way pulling my t-shirt over my head at your, “Oh, I want it”, - your tone and choice of words make me look at you and my mind screams, 'Is this finally it??'.

But after a few seconds your gaze falters and you look away, that single manoeuvre stinging like a bitch - as maybe you realise the ramifications of your words. I gave you an opening — trying to make things easier on you, on us — and you didn't take it.

That's when it hits me. Am I reading this all wrong?? Was the brief brush of your lips 2 nights ago now a mistake in your mind? But what about the queen room?? I'm doubting myself and that's something I don't do. Ever.

This is becoming too much to bare. For both of us. I know how I feel — I want you as much as I need air to breathe — and I'm certain you feel the same.

Taking one last chance, I give you another opening — my voice barely a whisper as I walk the short distance to you.

“Forget the shower. Tell me what you really want Sammy”.

When you turn and look at me — your expression wary, your body tense — and tell me you want me, my eyes tear up at your admission.

Finally.

Those few words are my permission to touch in ways never before allowed — and cupping your cheek in my hand and stroking my thumb across your soft skin, I tell you what I've known since I was 18.

“I'm yours, Sammy Always have been”.

For what seems like an eternity, you hold my gaze and don't utter a word. You just look as you move your hand to cover mine — the feel of your lips against my palm, mixed with your words — take my breath away.

All my repressed urges surge forward in a red hot need and I'm stepping closer, wrapping my hands in your hair as I claim your mouth with a ferocious need. 

I'm not gentle, nor tender as I kiss you till my need for air makes me draw back slightly, my wants and needs uttered over and over in the one word that means mine, Sammy.

I can see the urgency of this, us, in your eyes as you watch my mouth — pulling me against you as you claim me in a kiss even less tender than mine, grinding yourself against me in a move that illicits a moan from me. It's a fight for dominance as our tongues and teeth clash, but you win out as you lift me and I wrap my legs around your waist. And damn if that move doesn't fuck me over five ways from Friday — mixed with the press of your hard sculpted body pressed against mine — lifting me so effortlessly. 

You make holding my weight seem like holding air as you walk the few steps to the bed, your palm flat between my shoulder blades as you lower me to the bed, not once breaking contact.

Supporting yourself with one arm, the other still at my back - your kisses turn softer, slower — as you hover your mouth over mine, tracking circles around my lips with your own.

“What's wrong?”, I ask, shamelessly breathless, as you pull back slightly - that damn sexy hair of yours hanging forward, brushing my over-sensitive skin — searching your face for a sign that you think this is a mistake.

“Absoloutely nothing”, you tell me, pulling your hand from underneath me and tracing your fingertips across my swollen lips. If I didn't know better — I'd say you had a kink for my mouth.

“Nothing apart from I'm gonna make you come so hard”, you tell me, nipping at my bottom lip with your teeth, pulling back to look me in the eyes.

“Sammy that ain't wrong”, I tell you, fisting my hands in your hair — as pulling your mouth a fraction of an inch to mine — tell you, “that's a whole lotta right”.

And then I'm kissing you — lost in the sensation of finally being able to. Finally being able to touch, to feel, to lick, to bite as we give ourselves up to each other.

Finally — our beginning is here. My heart well and truly in your hands.


End file.
